Loki stared at his own hand and he felt the stare of the Jotunn who had grabbed him upon it as well.

It didn't burn like Volstagg had warned them it would, it was simply...turning blue.

Why was it turning blue?

He plunged his dagger through the heart of the frost giant but the monster held on, his body turning rigid fast in the cold so that even as he died the hand remained fixed on his arm. The blue did not recede, it not turn black and crumble his limb away as he expected (hoped). It simply grew and he felt it under his skin flowing through him, the chill that had never affected him even when the others had shivered, going through him, singing in his blood. Blood that he now realised was not that of Odin nor of Frigga.

What was he?

The answer to that came to him even before the question did.

(Monster!)

He could feel the chill in his throat now and it was earning attention fast stealing it from Thor. He felt a ripple of delirious laughter flood him at that, of all the ways to take attention away from Thor, this?

The battle had ground to a standstill, only Thor's grunts filling the air and once he'd defeated his foe and turned his eyes to where the rest were looking even those stopped. Silence reigned and oh, what Loki would have given for someone to say something, anything, even if it was only an ugly truth.

"Jotunn scum!" Thor roared and Loki wondered if it was him the Crown prince of Asgard was aiming the insult at, "What curse have you lain on my brother?!" He snapped at them and Loki was surprised at how much that lie hurt. Lies weren't supposed to hurt him. He was their God, why had they turned on him so?

For this was no curse. The blue did not fade and now Loki could see the lines etched into his skin. Perhaps they were on his face as well now. His fingers rose unbidden and felt at the skin of his cheek to find the raised ridges there. Oh, they had most certainly reached his face. Perhaps this was why Sif, who had never looked at him in fondness, was now looking at him in outright horror. Her hand was on her sword and it twitched but did not do anymore. Funny, she'd never needed a reason to try to kill him before and now that she had one she was too shocked to do anything of the sort.

Funny.

(He didn't laugh)

Murmurs were growing and Thor was growing impatient as his question went unanswered. Loki wanted to answer himself, tell him 'Thor this is no curse, it seems I am the monster that you vowed to destroy, what will you do now brother?'

Only the thought choked in his brain and never made it to his throat at all. Thor wasn't his brother at all.

But he was still the same impatient child that had gone to seek war and when no one said a word his anger mounted and Mjolnir was flung out only to be stopped by a hand. Loki followed the lines on the one that now held Mjolnir, Thor's great weapon now reduced to little more than a toy in a giant's hand. Strange how eerily similar those lines were to the ones on his own, Loki thought and followed them up to the face they spilled onto. The face of nightmares of Asgardian children and adults alike stared back at him.

Laufey.

"You..." The King of Jotunheim said, strangely soft for a monster. His hand dropped Mjolnir to the ground with nary a thought and reached out to Loki instead and even before he closed in on the air that Loki breathed, an unbidden ache in the vicinity of his heart had Loki flinching away.

And the shaking, quivering anger that dawned on Laufey's face made him thoroughly regret the little movement and he stilled, expecting a blow only to receive none. Instead Laufey turned his face to the skies and even Thor was cowed as the Jotunn King bellowed to the skies, a roar of rage, anguish and something Loki couldn't identity.

(Didn't want to identify, he had heard it in Frigga's voice his whole life)

"Odin, you wretched thief!" He cried out to the havens, "Show yourself, Deceiver!"

Deceiver, Loki pondered as he slowly grew numb as the golden light of the Bifrost filled the dark skies. How odd that the Allfather should have the same title among the frost giants that his frost giant foundling should have among the Aesir.

For he was a foundling, that much was obvious. Stolen from Laufey's nest if he guessed at the cause of the Jotunn king's anger correctly.

And the man who had stolen was suddenly there, standing in front of him, eyes gleaming with something that looked oddly like concern.

(Concern for the spare heir who was never an heir at all? Not very believable. Odin the Deceiver would have to work on his deceptions)

"Loki?" He asked and for a moment Loki almost believed that he did care. And then he recalled that he was stolen, apparently from one who was not glad to see him gone. Not concern then, at least not for Loki. For the schemes that Odin had built with him in mind, perhaps concern.

The wind howled around them and Loki stood wondering what he was to feel, what he was to hear, what lie he was to say.

(What lie he was to say? Ha, he was the very living lie itself)

"What am I?"

And the answer came from two voices, two people, two enemies united in their answer as they said the same words.

"You are my son."

(If you say so)